


A Warm Night in April

by Scary_Sunshine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Flash is a dick, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, everyone hugs peter, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scary_Sunshine/pseuds/Scary_Sunshine
Summary: "Peter hated the spring. Not because of the weather, or the bees, nor the pollen.. But because of the blood on his hands. On a warm night in April."-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Peter is grieving the loss of his uncle Ben as the anniversary of his death comes up; and he's trying his best to cope with all the stress alone, but ends up getting help from the person he least expected.





	1. April

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys~! This is the first one of my fics I've posted ;0 (bare with me) pretty excited to write this series. The first chapter is vv short, but the other chapters will be much longer UwU Tell me what you think in the comments c:

_“Peter.” The man’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He took a sharp breath, then continued to heave strangled sighs. Peter gripped onto every remaining huff of air, holding onto the possibility that maybe.. Maybe this wasn’t happening-_

_“Don’t.. Don’t be scared buddy.”_

_The man slowly tilted his head to face the teen with a smile. A final smile, a grin he kept as his eyes fluttered closed. His body went limp in Peter’s arms, but the teen didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he froze, his eyes locked onto his Uncle’s unnaturally still face._

_The sheer panic that ran through his body was beating from under his skin, and he shook badly. His chest felt like it was on fire, his heart racing across the flames that burned his psyche, his body, and his mind._

_Why was his uncle sleeping at a time like this? Was this sleep at all?_

_Peter wanted to believe it was._

_“Wake up.” The teen whispered._

_No response._

_“...Wake up.” He said it a little louder this time._

_Peter removed his hand from the older man’s chest, only to see it was stained with red._

_..Red? What did it mean?_

_The color dripped from his palms, and Peter’s vision blurred at the sight of it._

_His hand moved to his uncle’s cheek, and he slapped it lightly. Once. Two times._

_Silence._

_“WAKE UP!” The teen shouted. Tears poured from his burning eyes, and he didn’t even notice. All he felt was the warmth of it sliding down his face._

_“WAKE UP!” He screamed even louder, but he couldn’t hear it. He screamed over and over, he screamed so loud that his throat hurt, until he had no words left._

_His throat was torrid now, and he went quiet._

_“Please..”_

…

Peter rose upright in his bed with a gasp. His heart was still racing, and the panic under his skin still attacked his nerves. 

His frightened brown orbs scanned the room, looking for traces of reality. He looked around and saw his book-bag, slouched by the door. He saw his posters on the wall, and heard the sound of the plastic blades in his fan clinging together(the fan he desperately needed to fix)It took him a minute, but he realized he was in his room, and he was _safe._

But Uncle Ben was still gone. 

The panic in him eased a bit, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

The teen pinched his eyes shut, and desperately tried to wish away the hot tears welling under his lashes. 

Peter hated the spring. Not because of the weather, or the bees, nor the pollen..But because of the blood on his hands. On a warm night in April. 

…


	2. Dreams of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~! Second chapter ;0 Easing my way into writing longer chapters; so expect longer ones in the near future UwU Glad you guys seemed to enjoy the first chapter c:

Peter eased his way out of bed, shuddering as his skin touched the cold wood floor. The weight of the nightmare he had pushed down on his head as he stood. His eyes averted to the digital clock on his nightstand, reading 6:52.

It was eight minutes before Peter was supposed to wake up anyway. So he figured he didn’t lose that much sleep, which was true.

But the thought only came because Peter wanted a reason not to feel so tired.

The teen practically dragged himself to his closet. He leaned on the doorframe to support his aching body, but eventually he gave up and let himself slump down to the floor.

_Why am I so exhausted?_

His whole frame was trembling, and his throat stung as if he had been screaming. It was the tired feeling that a person would have after they cried so hard that they had no tears left, the feeling that their chest was empty but heavy with nothing at all.

Peter pushed through, and eventually finished getting dressed for the day. He had school, afterall.

Peter shuddered at the thought of school. His headache intensified drastically for a moment when he thought of the cruel grin on Flash’s face and the disgruntled murmurs of his peers from _that day_.

For some reason, every one of his daily routines seemed unbearable to Peter right now.

Peter brushed his teeth in the bathroom, but didn’t bother combing his thick layer of morning-bed-head curls.

The teen entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, his eyes scanning it’s contents for something to satisfy his morning-hunger; but he stopped when he noticed his aunt passed out on the couch.

Aunt May was usually on top of everything, she never faltered in taking care of Peter. But he knew that sometimes May needed a break from all the stress. Taking care of one kid alone and juggling a full-time job was eating at her; And Peter could tell.

She must have been up late, he could see 4 kinked aluminum cans of suds (all drunk dry) on the floor beside the cushiony decor.

She didn’t like April either.

Peter sighed, and stepped away from the fridge, shutting the fridge door in such a manner he was sure the sound wouldn’t wake her up. He took careful steps to the couch, and lay a soft wool blanket over his sleeping aunt.

The teen loomed over her sleeping figure; he could see his aunt’s glasses had been sloppily placed on the coffee table in front of her, next to a ravaged box of tissues. Used tissues were scattered across the table and littered on the floor. Peter’s eyes hesitantly trailed to his aunt’s sleeping face; he felt a wave of dejection consume him when he saw her sad visage.

She had definitely been crying, Peter could see the dried tears down her cheeks. Her nose was flushed in a sickly pink, either from crying or a possible fever. The older woman’s eyes were rimmed with a dark, muddy color; she clearly was having trouble sleeping. Her baggy eyes and the empty cans of beer scattered across the floor told Peter as much.

He let the hot, throbbing grief he was experiencing wash over him like a burning ocean; and he drowned in the feeling.  
Peter let the emotion numb his whole body, and he slumped down beside the couch.

The teen sat beside the couch his aunt lay on with his head buried in his knees until it was time for him to start the walk to school. He didn’t feel so hungry anymore, the emptiness in his stomach was replaced with a despondent sadness.

A few moments later, he tilted his head up, and unlocked his phone. He wearily read 7:30 on the screen with slightly blurred vision. The sleep had crept back into his eyes and he just wanted to lie down. It was about time for Peter to leave now, so he forced himself to rise up from the floor and rub the drowsiness out of his eyes before walking out the door.

…

The sky was painted in a spectrum of gray. The air was warm and it smelled like rain, Peter could hear the rumble of thunder, and he sighed.  
Great, now it was going to storm.

Luckily the walk to the bus-stop was only about 5 minutes, so Peter didn’t have to be in the upcoming rain for too long.

As he walked, the teen let the warm air consume him; and his mind drifted to his school-day.

 _Today shouldn’t be so hard._. He thought to himself.

Peter mentally went through his schedule, he didn’t have any classes he really dreaded today; so that was a plus.

The teen was reviewing 8th period when he stopped dead in his tracks.

 _Happy’s picking me up from school today_.

Peter remembered he was going to see Mister Stark directly after school for some “mentoring” as the billionaire liked to call it; but in reality all they did was tinker on projects and occasionally watch a movie with some pizza.

Peter enjoyed spending quality time with Mister Stark, but he didn’t want his childhood hero to see him in the state he’s in. Cancelling on him would be even worse, though.

Peter sighed shakily, and resumed his walk to the bus.

He decided he was just going to have to tough it out today, and everything would be fine.

_But would it really?_


	3. Art Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~! ;0 long chapter ahead, I'm a little insecure about this one so bare with me. >.< I hope ya'll like it anyway c: (major angst in this chapter)

Peter sat in fourth period, anxiously watching the hands on the clock tick for every second that passed. First, second, and third period were all equally agonizing for Peter; for he dreaded the moment the last bell would ring. This is the first time he has ever _dreaded_ going to see Mister Stark.

“Hey, Parker. Are you alright there son?” Peter whipped his head around to meet his art teacher’s eyes. Peter read genuine concern on the older man’s face, so he forced a smile. 

“Y-Yeah I’m okay, just thinking about um.. A test I have this afternoon.” 

There was a moment of silence, then the teacher grinned. “Oh come on, Parker. Your one of the smartest kids I know.” He walked passed Peter to the supply closet, tussling the teen’s unkempt locks as he strolled by; causing Peter to let out a light-hearted chuckle. 

“Get back to working on your project, maybe that’ll distract you.” The teacher said, with a hint of snark in his tone.

“Alright, alright.” Peter let out another small laugh, and stood to retrieve his supplies; earning a glare from Flash as he walked passed his work-space. 

Peter gulped, and averted his gaze elsewhere. 

He silently picked up the supplies he needed: Thick paper, markers, and an X-acto knife.  
They were instructed to make a tessellation piece, so Peter needed to design a shape to cut which he would use as his rubric. 

Peter had already sketched his design (a stormtrooper), so today he was going to focus on cutting it out. He carefully placed the tip of the knife on the paper, and used his other hand to keep it in place. 

...

Peter’s focus was 110% on the project, giddying over how awesome it was going to look when it was finished. Though Flash mocked him for making his project Star Wars themed; Peter still thought it looked cool.

_Mister Stark would like this idea._

The teen froze, and he stopped cutting.

As he worked, his mind couldn’t help but drift back to his mentor. 

_What would he think of me if he saw me like this?_

Peter sighed shakily.

_What if I break?_

He resumed cutting, but was unaware of it.

He was sure that if Mister Stark saw him in such a vulnerable state, he would surely hate him. Peter’s mind started to race with the possibilities.

_Tony Starks a billionaire, and he doesn’t have time for some baby like you crying to him about his stupid baby problems.._

…

_He hates you._

Panic slowly crept beneath Peter’s skin; threatening to snap the boy like a twig. Peter admired Stark; more than anyone else. (Besides his aunt) he was always striving for the man’s approval in everything he did. 

_But it doesn’t matter anymore. You screwed it all up._

His chest constricted; and the teen struggled to breathe. The terror of his nasty thoughts pushed down against his brain, prompting another headache.

_Look at you, Peter. Your pathetic._

Peter desperately looked around the room, the blurring in the corners of his vision spreading like an infection. His lungs screamed for air, pulling in as much oxygen they could through the teen’s nostrils. No one seemed to notice Peter was having a panic attack, everyone was having blissful chatter; laughing and smiling while Peter was about to break.

_See? They all think your pathetic._

“Peter? Are you ok?”

He heard a voice shout to him, but it was muffled; and it was soon drowned out by the ocean of panic pulling him under. Telling him that he was nothing. 

Maybe it was right. He is nothing; without the suit at least. If Peter wasn’t spiderman, he would just be a stupid kid. A _worthless_ kid. 

His breathing quickened and a lump formed in his throat. The thump of his heart pounded against his rib cage, and he could hear it booming into his ears.

_Your useless to Mister Stark._

Peter shook his head; he wasn’t worthless to Mister Stark. He _knew_ he wasn’t; but it was hard to convince himself of that truth right now.

_..Stop it_

He pleaded for it to stop.

Your all alone; you’ll always BE alone. Everyone knows that. Everyone except you; because your dumb enough to think that anyone actually likes you.

_..Stop it!_

_Quit trying to deny it. Once Mister Stark sees how weak you are, he’s going to take away your suit; AGAIN. He’s smart enough to know that you’ll never be somebody. Your just a lost cause, Peter. That’s why you couldn't save-_

Pain. 

Peter felt a sharp pain that immediately penetrated the numbness of his body. He could feel his nerves shrieking in agony. 

Peter dropped the X-Acto knife, and it clattered to the floor. The teen let out a loud whimper; confused as to where the pain was coming from. He slumped to the floor, and let out another whine.

Peter wearily shifted his gaze to his hands; and noticed something-

_Red._

Peter’s eyes widened, why was he bleeding? The pain intensified; It was a slicing pain that throbbed all the more as the blood dripped to the ground. There was a long, red gash in his left hand. Peter wasn’t paying attention to his cutting, and his hand had slipped and glided across the paper. 

_You idiot._

“Jesus christ, Peter!” The teacher rushed to Peter’s side; and inspected his wound. 

The panic under Peter’s skin intensified, and the poor teen was now trembling terribly.

“Aww kid…” The teacher sighed.

Peter didn’t even notice the man was there; his attention was to the color on his hand. 

“Hey guys, Look! Penis got a boo-boo!” Flash said in a degrading tone; standing up to point at the slumped Peter Parker. A few fellow students chuckled; while most looked away. 

The laughs of his peers cut through the thick trance Peter was caught in; and he woke up.

“FLASH I SWEAR TO GOD YOU EITHER SHUT THE HELL UP AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN OR I’LL HAVE TO MAKE ANOTHER CALL TO YOUR MOTHER FOR THE THIRD GOD DAMN TIME THIS WEEK!” The teacher bellowed.

Flash stood dumbfounded for a moment; before sitting down with a scoff. “Pfft.. Whatever.” He mumbled. 

The teacher glared at Flash for a few seconds before reverting his attention back to Peter. 

“That’s a pretty gnarly cut you got there, son.” 

Peter’s gaze fell to the ground; and he quickly staggered to his feet.

“I-I’m so s-sorry, I...I-” He stuttered, his gaze glued to the floor. He lurched away from the teacher; embedding his hands into his curls, gripping them tightly in attempts to ground himself. 

“What are you talking about? You’ve got nothing to apologize for-” The teacher said, gingerly approaching the panicked teen.

Peter could feel everyone’s eyes on him; burning into skin. He frantically looked around the room, facing everyone’s confused stares; even Flash looked a tad bit concerned. 

The noises from the world muffled out in Peter’s brain; and the only thing he could see was..

_Red._

Peter gasped loudly, and gripped the table tightly with his right hand to keep his knees from buckling down for the second time.

Suddenly, he was in the dark again, kneeling down on the wet sidewalk; the droplets of rain lightly pittering against him and dripping down his curls. His hands were covered in _red._

_getoutofheregetoutofheregetoutofhere_

Peter’s mind raced with one thought.

_You need to get out of here._

“Hey kid, calm down it’s not that bad-” 

“-S’cuse me” Peter managed to choke out before stumbling to the door; desperately pushing through desks and students. 

He yanked it open so hard that it slammed against the wall with a _“crack”_ before creaking back to its original position. 

Peter was in the hallway now; the long anticipated tears spilling from his eyes onto his cheeks. He didn’t get too far before his legs buckled and he fell against the wall of lockers with a _“clang”_. He hit his head, hard on the metal. He yelped, and a sudden surge of hot, white pain attacked his nerves. The teen’s vision was fuzzy now, and he could feel himself drifting out of consciousness. 

“Peter!” 

All noise faded away with the teen’s consciousness; and he felt a little relieved. 

________________________________________________________________________________________

“I called both his emergency contacts; neither of them picked up so I left voicemails..” 

“What do you propose we do? We can’t send him back to class like this-”

Peter could hear two people having a heated conversation in regards to him, though their voices seemed distant. A normal person probably wouldn’t be able to hear in this state; but because of Peter’s enhanced hearing abilities their words were some-what clear to him.

He slowly opened his eyes, though his vision was still little fuzzy; he could make out where he was; the nurse’s office.

He sat up, slowly; and as soon as he did he felt the familiar surge of hot, white pain spill into his head like a waterfall. 

“Ah!” the teen winced. 

The two women who were speaking whipped around to face him.

“Peter! You’re awake!” 

Peter only nodded, and looked down at his hands. 

His left hand had bandages that wrapped all the way around his palm; tightly encasing his wound.

That’s when Peter remembered everything that happened; prompting the migraine he was experiencing to only inflame. He groaned, and laid back down.

He heard the clicking of heels approach him, and he closed his eyes again. 

“Mister Parker? Are you awake?” A woman asked softly.

“Mhm.” Was all the teen could muster at the moment. 

“We left voicemails for both people listed in your emergency contacts, hoping to send you home for the rest of the day.” 

“M’ fine..” Peter murmured wearily. 

“No, your _not_ fine.” The woman remarked sternly. “We’re considering taking you to the hospital; you cut your hand pretty bad, and you fainted. You’ve been asleep for three periods, Peter.” 

“What?!” Peter shot up again, and immediately regretted it as the pain pounded against his head. 

“Yeah, you were _out_ hun. The teacher who brought you here also informed us you had been crying; was there something wrong, Peter?” 

“O-Oh.. Uh, no. The cut just.. Really hurt I guess.” Peter replied quietly. 

The woman cocked an eyebrow, then walked away.  
“You’ll rest in here for the rest of the school-day, then.” 

“I can’t! I have a test eighth period. I really need to do it today.”

“No, Peter. You _need_ to rest.”

...

After a few minutes of pleading, the nurse finally agreed to let Peter leave when the next bell rang for eighth period. When it rang, Peter said a quick goodbye to the woman before making an exit to the hallway. 

He walked with his head low, hoping no one would notice him pass by; but they did. He got a lot of glances and a few frowns, but that wasn’t too bad. 

“Looks like penis had a temper tantrum!” Flash snorted as he walked by with a sly grin. Peter just sighed, and kept walking. He was mortified that a whole class of students and his teacher had witnessed his panic attack. The teen couldn’t believe he lost control so quickly. 

_Stupid._

Peter yawned; and his mind jumped back to what the nurse said in the office. It was too bad Aunt May didn’t answer the phone, he would’ve liked to go home as the pain in his head tortured him to no avail. 

_Who is my second emergency contact anyway?_

Peter pondered for a moment; his chocolate colored-orbs then widened in realization-

_The school called Mister Stark._

How could he have forgotten? The teen had a conversation with Mister Stark on the very subject last week. The billionaire had mentioned that May had put him down as an emergency contact for Peter, and they had a very deep conversation about it. Though Peter was uncomfortable with the idea, he accepted the older-man’s judgement, realizing this argument wasn’t going anywhere.

Peter fell asleep in the compound watching a movie with Mister Stark that night. 

The teen’s heart started beating erratically again. All he could do was pray that Tony hadn’t listened to the voicemail.

_He’s a busy man- the stupid messages probably got drowned out by other voicemails by now.._

Peter sighed shakily, he could only hope so.  
...  
Even though Peter secretly wanted to tell Mister Stark so badly.


	4. Upstate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~! Sorry it took a while to upload, I've been busy with father's day being tomorrow (technically today) I was also working pretty hard on this chapter. I hope ya'll enjoy! c:

Peter’s eyes inspected the thin lines carved into the wood on his desk; letting the noise from the busy classroom drown out. The teen was pretty out of it, the impact of hitting his head on a locker earlier was still throbbing with a swelling, white pain.  
Peter took his eyes off the desk to once more gaze at the ticking clock. He had eight minutes left in 9th period; this prompted his heart-beat to accelerate. Nervous butterflies fluttered in the boy’s stomach while stars danced in his vision. He was dizzy, unbelievably dizzy almost to the point where the world was spinning around him.

The dread in the pit off the boy’s stomach dragged his heart down; and it sank. Peter was very nervous to see Mister Stark; he didn’t know if he could act natural at this point. Everything about his day is ruined, the panic attack and the injuries he received only intensified the still lingering fear that was eating it’s way through Peter from the nightmare he had. 

Peter was drowning in his own thoughts, when he heard Ned’s voice. 

“Hey, man.” 

Peter looked over to Ned, who was a few feet away. Worry laced his voice, and his face was twisted into a sad visage. 

_He pities you; pathetic._

Peter sighed, “Ned, I can barely hear you from over there.” The whole class was chattering, everyone had finished their work already and the teacher was struggling to keep awake.  
Ned scooted his desk next to Peters; the teen watched for a full 30 seconds as his friend struggled to move the desk over, each movement followed with an unpleasant screech from the metal legs scratching the floor. 

Only when his friend finally joined him; Peter groaned in exhaustion and put his head down.  
It was silent for a few moments, when Ned spoke.  
“...So I heard-” 

“Not now, Ned.” 

Ned was silent again, and Peter felt a little relieved. Though he hated treating his best friend this way; he didn’t need another voice overwhelming his senses. However, this luxury didn’t last for long when Ned opened his mouth.

“Does it hurt?” 

Peter lifted his head, and met Ned’s worried eyes.  
“Yeah.. a little bit. I also bumped my head pretty bad..” 

“That sucks, man.” 

“Yeah, it really does.” 

“Don’t you have to go upstate today?” 

Peter flinched. He didn’t want to think about it; even though he would be in the car with happy in a few minutes anyway.  
Peter sighed, and put his head down again. “Yeah…” 

The two boys continued chatting for the remainder of class, then fell silent when the bell rang.  
“See you on Monday, Peter.” Ned said, glancing at Peter before leaving the class. The teen sighed, and slowly stood from his seat; his head throbbing as black spots faded and reappeared in his vision. 

_Just tell him your sick.. He’ll understand._

Peter shook his head. 

_No. You have to go, Peter. You don’t want to disappoint Mister Stark, do you?_

_No! Don’t go. You’ll be a burden to him if you go anyway; just head home._

Peter continued to have an argument amongst himself all the way to the parking lot; when he stopped in front of the sleek black car before him.

He took a shaky breath.

_Here we go._

________________________________________________________________________________________

Harold Hogan sighed as his eyes once again trailed from the road to his rear-view mirror, quizzically studying the expression on Peter Parker’s face. The kid was usually talking his ear off by now, yet they were over halfway to the tower and the only thing that came out of the kid’s mouth was a lazy “Hey, Happy.” Happy even asked him how school was, which he never even bothered doing since the kid would USUALLY explain every little thing about his day in great detail from the minute he woke up to when he hopped in the car. But when Happy said “Hey kid, how was school?” all he got in response was a shrug and an indifferent “hm” from the teen. 

Little Pete was usually over the moon when they drove to the tower, as he always looks forward to building with Stark, but now he just seemed.. Distant. 

Happy finally decided to break the silence. “What’s on your mind, kid?” He said, his eyes still on Peter. 

Peter was leaning against the window, his eyes watching the rain patter down on the cold glass. His gaze was dull, and his skin was a little paler than usual. He looked tired, dark rings under his eyes that stood out against his light complexion. 

Happy could barely make it out, but he was sure that he saw tears glistening in the kid’s eyes. 

Peter jolted when Happy asked him that question. It was like his brain woke up, and he snapped back into reality. 

“O-Oh, Its um.. Nothing. Im fine.”  
Happy squinted at the kid for a moment, then took his eyes back to the road.

“If you say so, kid.” 

Silence returned once more, making it easier for Happy to hear the kid when he sighed shakily and sniffled. 

When he heard the teen sniffle, he looked back at him through the rear-view mirror and could see him burying his face in the sleeves of his jacket.

Happy sighed, and reached for his phone.

___________________________________________________________________________________

…

Stark was polishing his suit while he waited for Peter to arrive at the tower. He didn’t want to start working until Peter got there, he wouldn’t admit it but he enjoyed seeing the kids face light up when he watched him work; so he didn’t wanna do it without him. 

He was dragging a wet rag across the iron on his suit when he heard his phone vibrate against the metal on his desk. He rolled over to the desk on his chair and picked up his phone. 

_Happy Hogan: I think something's up with the kid._

Tony furrowed his brows in concern as he read the text. Peter was a happy kid, and Tony couldn’t imagine him any other way.

He didn’t reply to the text, but he pondered for a moment about what the kid could be upset about.

 _Did he have a bad day at school? A fight with May?_ His mind raced with thoughts, and he almost didn't notice when the doorbell rang.

“Boss, Mister Parker has arrived.” Said FRIDAY.

“Let him in.” 

…

Tony pretended not to notice when the kid walked in. However, he was surprised when the teen said nothing, and seated himself at his desk and began to mindlessly tinker with some metal scraps. 

There was a moment of silence, when the billionaire sighed, and turned to face Peter in his spinny chair.

“Hey, Pete?” 

Peter jolted awake from his stupor, and faced Stark with a pair of misty orbs, wide with shock. 

The scraps fell from the teen’s shaky hands with a “clank”. 

“Oh uh, H-hey Mister Stark.. Hi.” He stumbled over his words. The boy was still a little out of it.

The older man raised a brow, and rolled over to Peter’s workspace. 

Peter blushed a little, and looked back down at the metal scraps.

Tony clapped a hand on the teen’s shoulder, and waited a minute before speaking. 

“So, space cadet.” he began. Peter furrowed his brows in confusion at the nickname.  
“Good ol’ Haps told me you’ve been acting a bit strange, and I can see he wasn’t lying. Care to explain?” 

Peter gulped.

“I-It’s really nothing to worry about, M-Mister Stark..It doesn’t matter.” The teen said quietly, his voice wavering. He continued to stare at the metal scraps on his desk.

“It does matter, Pete. If there’s something interfering with my intern’s workflow, then I wanna know. And I wanna fix it.” 

Peter met the older man’s gaze when he said that, slowly turning his head up to face him. 

Tony felt his chest tighten when he saw the boy’s teary eyes. His expression softened, and he strengthened his grip on the kid.

“Come on, Pete.” The billionaire whispered in a soothing tone. 

The teen closed his eyes, and sighed shakily before reverting his gaze back to the metal scraps.

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the abrupt buzz of his phone from his pocket. 

The teen’s eyes snapped open, and opened his phone to see a call incoming from his aunt May. The boy looked back at Tony; the billionaire could see the desperation in his chocolate orbs. He could see Peter really wanted to tell him something, but instead stood up. 

“Sorry, Mister Stark. I have to take this..” Peter said in the most casual voice he could muster before retreating to the bathroom. 

Tony only remained silent while he watched as Peter walked away, murmuring into the phone on his ear. Even when the boy turned the corner, the billionaire only stared at where Peter once stood.  
“Boss, you have a voicemail from Midtown High School that was sent at 1:15 PM; would you like me to play it?” FRIDAY’s voice cut through the thick tension in the room. 

“What?! Yeah play it! Why didn’t you tell me I got a call?!” Tony barked at the ceiling. 

“You said not to bother you during your ‘beauty sleep’; boss.” 

The billionaire sighed. “..Touche”

“Just- transfer the voicemail to my phone..” Tony scoffed, growing impatience lacing his tone.  
The billionaire picked up his phone, and put it to his ear. 

There was a beep, and then a feminine voice spoke. 

_“Hello, I’m calling from Midtown highschool about a situation involving Mister Peter Parker; he has sustained a few injuries and is currently passed out here in the nurse’s office. We called because you were listed as an emergency contact, so please if you get this; come bring Peter home."_

After a click, the voicemail ended. Tony put the phone down, and ran a hand through his dark locks.

_If only I woke up in time.._

Tony continued to sulk for a moment, when he heard a thump echo through the hall. He stood, paranoia creeping under his skin. 

“Boss, Mister Parker has collapsed in the bathroom.” FRIDAY said calmly. 

Tony scrambled to stand; fumbling out of his chair. He bolted to the bathroom and frantically wiggled the doorknob. 

Locked.

“Peter! Peter open up!” He shouted; banging on the wood with his fist. When there was no response, he backed up; and kicked the door as hard as he could. As expected, it flung open. 

“Peter!” 

The teen was sprawled on the floor, his head leaning against the toilet seat. His phone lay next to him; he likely dropped it when he fell. There were small tears that dripped from his chin; Tony could see that he had been crying.

He wasn’t opening his eyes. 

_Peter…_


	5. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of the abyss* heY guys,, it's been 84 years since I've uploaded a chapter ;-; I've been on vacation for the past few days and haven't gotten the chance to write :c bUUUT while I was on vacation I had a lot of time think about this fic and where I want it to go; s AnnNNNNND here's chapter 5 c: ((last chapter owo))

...

Tony kneeled down beside Peter; and gently lifted his head from the toilet seat with trembling fingers. The billionaire gingerly held the back of Peter’s head in his hand; gripping his curls.

Tony could hear his heart pounding in his ears; and his breathing became unsteady. All of this was all too familiar to the superhero, the sheer panic along with the desperation; hoping, pleading that the being in his arms would open their eyes. 

For Tony, it almost never happened. 

“Come on, Pete..”  
He lightly slapped his cheek, and shortly after, the boy’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Peter!” Stark exclaimed. Relief washed over him; easing his nerves a bit. 

Peter’s chocolate orbs moved slowly around the room; his gaze swimming through the haze caught in his vision. When his eyes finally got to Tony, they widened a little. A spark of recollection glinted in the boy’s eyes. 

“M’str Stark..?” Peter mumbled; he was slurring his words in his stupor. 

“Yeah, buddy; it’s me.” The billionaire grunted out while lifting Peter’s small frame off the floor. He practically had to drag him out of the bathroom. 

“Hurts’..” Peter mumbled. He started to slide to the floor again; but the billionaire quickly shifted his hands to catch the teen.  
Tony picked the boy up into his arms, and proceeded to carry him to the couch.  
“Where does it hurt?” 

The teen nuzzled against Tony’s chest and closed his eyes. “Mmm.. Head.” Peter mumbled into the billionaire’s jacket. 

“Your head?” The older man inquired. It was no use, though; the boy was passed out again. 

“Peter!” Tony desperately shouted the boy’s name in attempts to wake him up; but it didn’t work this time. 

“Shit. FRIDAY scan Peter for injuries.” The billionaire barked an order; not taking his eyes off the fainted teenager. 

“Yes, boss.” 

________________________________________________________________________________________

…

“Mister Parker?” 

Peter’s consciousness drifted him back into reality, and the lids of his eyes slowly pulled open; revealing a blur of shapes and colors in the boy’s eyesight. All his senses were underwater; drowned out in an ocean of grogginess. As Peter scanned the room, his vision sharpened; and he could loosely make out his surroundings.  
Peter felt an immense feeling of warmth cradling his body as well as soft silk brushing against his skin. His gaze fell downward, and he could tell he was bundled up in several blankets. The teen’s head rested upon the softest pillows he had ever felt in his life; his body lay on cushions that felt like clouds beneath his frame; he almost fell asleep again as everything was so comfortable and.. perfect? He realized he was on a couch.. But whos? 

He gasped loudly in realization, and shot upright on the cushiony decor. The comfort he felt was ripped away from him as he rose up; and immediately regretted it. The pain in his head returned, and the boy winced. 

“Mister Stark has given me instructions to inform him when you awake.” FRIDAY spoke calmly. 

All of Peter’s instincts were telling him to leave; _now._ He didn’t want Mister Stark to talk to him about school or about the phone-call with aunt May. He _needed_ to go home before Mister Stark notices he woke up. 

“N-No! Don’t tell him! please FRIDAY, I need to leave before he comes back!” Peter pleaded.

 

 _If you leave now; Mister Stark can finally go on with his day without you burdening him. If you go home right now he won’t even notice._

“Sorry, Peter. I can’t disobey orders.” 

“FRIDAY wait-”

 _GET OUT OF HERE!_

“Peter!”

Peter’s head snapped to look at the entrance of the room; where a concerned Tony Stark now stood.

_...Shit_

“Oh! H-Hey Mister Stark.” Peter squeaked. 

The billionaire didn’t reply, but instead approached the teen with a visage holding dark; narrowed eyes. Peter couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. 

“I.. I really should be going now Mister Stark; I’ll just grab my stuff and walk-” Peter started to stand up; but was interrupted when his mentor pulled him into a gruff hug. 

“M-Mister Stark?” 

The teen was confuddled at the act. He knew very well that Mister Stark wasn’t a hug type person; he even told Peter himself. Whenever people had stopped by the tower while Peter happened to be there, Tony avoided all physical contact in general. It seemed ridiculous to Peter at times; and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the billionaire’s remarkable but unusual evasiveness.

Peter opened his mouth to speak; but stopped when he felt the man trembling slightly in his embrace. 

Tony patted the teen’s back, then pulled away; placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “How’s your head kid?” 

“I-It’s fine.” Peter said in a high voice; confusion painted on his visage. 

“It’s-” The teen hitched, and instinctively jerked his hands to his head when an abrupt surge of pain overcame him. 

“Sit back down, Peter.” Tony said quietly; worried that any noise loud enough would intensify the headache. 

“I’m fine, Mister Stark. Really..” Peter said; sitting back down. He rested his head against the cushions of the couch; letting himself sink into the silky tomb. 

“You don’t seem _fine_ to me, kid.” The billionaire scoffed. 

“..I can’t stay here Mister Stark, I have to get home; Aunt May-” 

“I’ve already talked to her. You're crashing here tonight, kid.” 

“What?!” Peter protested, rising from his resting position.

The billionaire smacked his lips. “Yup. Aunt hottie agreed that it’s better if you stay here for the night. You couldn’t go far with that concussion of yours.”

“Mister Stark!” Peter whined; falling back onto the couch in defeat. 

“It’s fine, really! I only bumped my head..” Even Peter could tell how ridiculous he sounded right now, he himself knew the extent of his injuries; but refused to admit it. 

“Peter.” The billionaire scolded softly. 

“I got a call from your school today.” 

Peter’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest, and time seemed to stop. This was the one moment of the day he had been dreading for hours. All the excuses he had carefully planned seemed to fail, and he found himself scrambling to pick up the pieces and put it into words. 

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak “I-I uh..”  
The billionaire raised a brow; and the teen continued to stutter. 

“I-It was really nothing Mister Stark. It was just a small cut, that’s all; I was j-just really clumsy and I had a test that I-I was nervous for and I just..um..” 

The teen’s heart started to pound violently; crashing against his ribcage as his nerves were screaming for him to get away, but he couldn’t move. 

_How pathetic._

He struggled to blink tears out of his eyes and swallow the lump in his throat, when the older man spoke. 

“It’s okay, Peter.”

“I-I’m sorry Mister Stark. I’m really really sorry..” Peter frantically apologized; all the barriers he had put up crumbled down in an instant as warm streams of tears ran down his face. 

Tony pulled the fragile teen in his arms for the second time in ten minutes; and let him sob quietly into his jacket.  
Peter buried his face into the billionaire’s shoulder, and tightly gripped the cloth on his back with trembling hands. 

“I’m s-so s-sorry..” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, kid.” Tony spoke surely, tightening his hold around the boy’s small frame; endearing the embrace.  
After a few minutes of silence and weeping; Peter’s tears stopped for the most part; and he slowly pulled away from his mentor’s arms. 

“What happened at school today, kid.” The billionaire questioned softly. 

Peter didn’t think before responding, the words that had been locked away in a prison of doubt seemed to unknowingly spill from his lips. 

“I had.. I had a nightmare, about my uncle Ben last night..” The teen sighed; avoiding his mentor’s gaze. 

“It was like.. Like I-I was reliving the past and.. I couldn’t do it, Mister Stark. I tried so hard to be strong, for you, for Ned, and Aunt May.. But I screwed it up when I couldn’t get out of my head in class..”  
Peter paused to inhale shakily; once again fighting back hot tears from spilling. 

“A-And then I cut my h-hand and it felt like everyone was watching me so I-I ran and then.. Everything went black and I woke up in the nurse’s office..” 

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark.” Peter sighed. “I can understand if you want to take my suit away again..” 

“What? Why the hell would I do that?!” Tony exclaimed in disbelief. 

Peter looked back up at the dumbfounded billionaire, and gulped. 

“W-Well I thought-” The teen started to speak again- but was cut off. 

“Peter, everybody feels shitty sometimes; and feeling shitty doesn’t make you any less of a hero. Trust me, I _know._ ” Tony said surely. 

“...You do?” Peter inquired weakly. 

“Of course I do, buddy. I’ve been dealing with it for years.” The billionaire smiled sadly; and for the first time that day he took his gaze off Peter, and stared out the window; lost in thought. 

“Mister Stark..” 

Tony snapped his eyes back to Peter, and spoke. “But don’t worry about me, we’re talking about you right now, Pete.” 

“Now what do you say we watch a movie?” Tony said playfully, and tussled the boy’s unkempt curls; causing Peter to giggle. 

“Sure, how about-” 

The billionaire scoffed. “Peter, every single time you’ve come here we’ve watched Star Wars; now _I_ get to play god.” 

“Okay, what are we going to watch?” 

“Star Wars.” Tony said as he rose from the couch. “And I’m ordering dinner.” 

Peter gave a small, but genuine smile. “Thanks, Mister Stark.” 

“Don’t mention it, Pete.”  
________________________________________________________________________________________


End file.
